


How The Two Good Women Kept Themselves Warm

by smokefall



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Année Sans Été, Canon Era, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/F, Gen, Old Age, Old Friends, who may or may not be in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:05:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokefall/pseuds/smokefall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the Year Without a Summer, the Bishop of Digne insists on visiting his parishioners, leaving Magloire and Baptistine to keep the house. The nights are cold, but friendship is warm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How The Two Good Women Kept Themselves Warm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the good citizens of Les Miseres](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the+good+citizens+of+Les+Miseres).



> For the Les Miseres huddling-for-warmth challenge. It was going to be Eponine/Cosette but then I remembered these two in their cold house, and the Bishop's tendency to go off helping people no matter how ridiculous the weather, and the Year Without a Summer being a thing, and this happened.

It was 1816, l'Année Sans Été, a year of thunder and freezing rain. The months marched on without remembering to bring the seasons with them, and now the year was approaching a cold and bleak midsummer without having passed through spring. Where the frosts had not killed the crops, the rains spoiled them. In Digne, the cold crept into every corner and could not be got out; in some of the higher villages the snow had still not melted. Monseigneur Bienvenu had, as contrarily and cheerfully as ever, set out to supply what relief he could to those villages in spite of the gales that lashed the mountain-sides.

Remaining behind to keep the house, Mademoiselle Baptistine and Madam Magloire prayed for his safe and speedy return, reassuring one another that all would doubtless be well, for all that the days of June seemed to be growing darker and colder still. On Midsummer's Day, the sky was so overcast with gloom that the birds went to roost at mid-day, and the interior of the house was dark as midnight.

The two women had argued previously about lighting candles during the day - it was an extravagance, Baptistine said; the Bishop would certainly not do so.

'His Highness is a fount of wisdom in many things,' grumbled Magloire, 'but not in housekeeping, and I tell you that I shall fall over and crack my head if I have to walk about like this. Black as a pocket, it is in here.' Baptistine said nothing, so Magloire took this as acquiescence and lit a candle. By its light, she walked about the house and found other things to grumble about, while Baptistine sat in quiet contemplation.

By supper time, there was a howling storm around the house, and a bitter wind that seemed to blow right through the walls. 'Come and pray with me,' said Baptistine, once they had supped. 'I fear there are many souls who will need our prayers on such a night.'

They prayed, as they often did, in Baptistine's chamber, with only the sound of the storm shaking the windows to keep them company. 

'Madam Magloire,' she said, when the other got up to leave. 'Bring your blankets.'

Magloire looked at her, surprise evident in her face. 'Bring them here, Mademoiselle?'

'It has been too cold today to move all but a little. It is certainly too cold a night to spend shivering separately. We have prayed for the relief of the cold and the hungry; might we not also afford ourselves some relief?'

'That's why I lit a candle today.'

'I know. I only objected because it is good to conserve our resources where we can. But to share warmth is to conserve it also, is it not? If we combine our blankets, and lay side by side, we may even be able to imagine ourselves warm.'

'Well, I -,' Magloire said, the customary loquaciousness gone from her speech. 'I suppose -'

'It was only an idea, not an obligation. You may go if you prefer, and forget that I said anything.' She spoke mildly, and yet Magloire heard a tremor in her voice that belied her words. She may have looked like a being composed more of light than of flesh, but that did not protect her from the unrelenting chill - and she had barely anything on her bones to keep the cold from sinking into them.

Magloire went and fetched her blankets.

They had passed hours together in Baptistine's room before - examining the paintings that Magloire had discovered behind the wallpaper, or praying side by side before retiring. Sometimes they had sat on the bed together, as if they were young girls, talking of anything and nothing, sharing reminiscences, or telling stories - Baptistine would start with the painting of Telemachus on the wall, and tell Magloire what she recalled of his adventures, and of Ulysses and Minerva and the wine-dark sea; Magloire, for her part, had an endless stock of ghostly tales, with which she would attempt to frighten Baptistine and end up frightening herself.

But this - spending the whole night there, in that one bed, which was spacious enough for Baptistine alone but crowded by the two of them, and under the covers - this was a new intimacy. They lay, as Baptistine had suggested, side by side, still dressed, separated by layers of clothing and yet with a seam of warmth running between them.

The candle by the bedside threw yellow light across the room and onto the frescoes there. The play of candlelight and shadow lent movement to the scene, causing Baptistine to remark how it almost seemed that the Roman women were dancing.

'And with their arms bare in the sunlight!' said Magloire. 'What I'd give to be dancing with them! Only, I'd be out of breath in no time, with my asthma.'

'It is a dream garden. You may dance without coughing, and I without doing myself an injury; we won't be quite as graceful as our Roman sisters, but we'll make do.'

She spoke in a perfectly serious tone, but Magloire did not have to look to know that her eyes were merry.

'Are you warm, Baptistine?' she asked.

'Warmer.'

A typical answer - neither a lie nor an admission that she would like something more. Magloire sighed and pushed herself slightly upwards in the bed, so that she could put her arms around Baptistine. 'I'll have you remember this was your idea,' she said.

Baptistine turned into the gesture, resting her head on Magloire's shoulder. 'Yes,' she said, after a few moments. 'I'm warm.'

'Good,' said Magloire. 'Now tell me more about what we shall do in the Roman garden.'


End file.
